Family Secret

Chapter 31

The smell of laundry detergent still lingered faintly in the air from Alexia’s earlier chores when she stepped back into the living room. Ryan and Kyan were curled up on the sofa, still buzzing from their cartoon, Agent Wolf blaring across the screen.

Alexia leaned against the doorframe with a soft smile. “Alright, you two, what do you want for dinner?”

“PIZZA!” they shouted in perfect unison, their little voices ringing through the townhouse like a battle cry.

Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, alright—you win. Pizza it is. I’ll call it in.” She picked up her phone, dialing the local place she’d memorized by now.

The twins beamed with victory, clapping their hands. Ryan immediately turned his eyes back to the screen, excitement still buzzing in his chest. But after a few seconds, he realized something was… off.

Kyan hadn’t moved.

Ryan frowned, leaning forward. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

No answer.

He stood up, walked around the sofa to face her—and froze.

Kyan’s eyes were wide, glazed, locked on nothing. Her small chest rose and fell too fast, trembling breaths catching in her throat. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, her face twisted in raw terror.

Ryan’s heart dropped. He knew this look.

“Kyan!” He shook her little shoulders, panic swelling in his chest. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?!”

She didn’t blink, didn’t move. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

Then—suddenly—she gasped, her whole body jerking as though she’d been pulled from deep water. Ryan caught her, arms tight around her trembling frame.

Her wide, wet eyes finally focused on him. And in the smallest, most broken whisper, her voice cracked:

“Daddy’s… going to die tonight.”

The words hit Ryan like ice water. His stomach sank so sharply he thought he might be sick.

He clutched his little sister tighter, fear clawing at his chest, because he knew one thing for certain: Kyan’s visions were almost never wrong.

---

The air was sharp with the tang of oil and steel as Nate crouched in the shadow of the Order’s History Museum. The old stone building loomed like a fortress against the night sky, its brass gears and copper piping gleaming under the moonlight—a monument to the steampunk empire they swore to protect.

Kevin shifted beside him, his sandy-blond hair sticking out in untamed tufts beneath his flat cap. He gave a low whistle, sipping from the dented thermos of coffee he carried like a lifeline. “Quiet as a grave out here, mate. Almost too quiet.”

Nate’s jaw tightened. His instincts gnawed at him, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Something didn’t sit right. The intel had come fast—too fast. And Kristen had been quick to send them out without her usual redundant checks.

Rose crouched on Nate’s other side, her pale eyes cutting sharp through the dark. Her gloved fingers flexed against the grip of her pistol, steady and ready. “We should’ve had contact by now,” she murmured.

“Exactly,” Nate muttered, scanning the rooftops, the alleys, every shadow. He’d learned long ago to trust his gut. And right now, it screamed trap.

Then, without warning—

Chaos.

The night exploded in gunfire.

Bullets tore through the stillness, sparks ricocheting off brass railings and stone walls. Shouts rang out from every side, and agents scrambled for cover as Resistance fighters poured out of the dark like a flood.

“Bloody hell!” Kevin barked, dragging one of the younger agents down just before a spray of bullets cut the air where his head had been.

Nate spun, his pistol already raised, each shot precise, clean, lethal. He dropped two Resistance fighters before they closed in, but for every one that fell, three more seemed to appear.

Rose moved like a phantom, her dark hair whipping around her face as she fired with deadly accuracy. She covered Nate’s flank, her voice calm but urgent: “We’re surrounded!”

A scream tore through the comms as one of their men went down, then another. Half the team was already lost in the opening minutes. The rest were pinned, pinned hard.

Nate ducked behind the stone pillar of the museum’s entrance, his breaths sharp. His eyes flicked over Kevin and Rose—both crouched nearby, exchanging fire with the Resistance. His gut twisted. This wasn’t just an ambush. This was a slaughter.

And yet, retreat wasn’t an option.

Nate tightened his jaw, eyes scanning the battlefield, searching desperately for a break in the storm.

---

Ryan wrapped his arms around Kyan as she shook in his hold, her small frame trembling with every uneven breath. Her glazed-over eyes were slowly clearing, but her cheeks were streaked with tears. Ryan rubbed her back in slow circles, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you, Ky. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”

Finally, she let out a hiccup and leaned into him, her little fists gripping his shirt. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I saw Daddy.”

Ryan’s brows furrowed, his stomach tightening. “Tell me what you saw,” he urged gently.

Kyan swallowed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “It… it was in pieces. Like shards of glass.” She scrunched her face, trying to pull the fragments together. “He was at The Order’s History Museum. Bad men everywhere. There was so much shooting and…” her voice broke again as fresh tears welled in her eyes, “…Daddy gets shot. Right here.” She pressed a trembling finger to her chest, right over her heart.

Ryan felt his throat close. His jaw tightened as he held her a little tighter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low, serious.

Kyan nodded, her lips quivering. “I saw it, Ryan. I felt it.”

He took a steadying breath, forcing his own panic down. “Okay. Okay, then when?”

Kyan blinked, closing her eyes like she was digging through the broken images in her mind. “There was… a clock. Big and shiny. It read…” she hesitated, her little brows knitting together before she whispered, “…11:48 p.m. Then Daddy… then he…”

Ryan cupped her face gently before she could fall apart again. “That’s enough. You don’t have to say it.”

Her eyes watered, and she nodded.

Ryan turned his head slowly toward the digital clock glowing faintly on the wall. 8:10 p.m.

His stomach dropped.

They had time. Not much, but enough. The real problem? Sneaking away. Alexia was sharp, sharper than anyone Ryan had ever met. An assassin who noticed everything. How could they possibly slip past her without being caught?

Ryan held his sister close, his mind already racing.

They had to try.

Because if they didn’t, Nate was going to die.

Ryan and Kyan sat cross-legged on the floor of their room, whispering back and forth as though the walls themselves had ears. Ryan leaned close, his brow furrowed.

“We can’t let him die, Kyan. We can’t,” he said firmly, trying to sound braver than he felt.

Kyan hugged her stuffed rabbit to her chest, eyes still damp from earlier. “But how? Alexia’s always watching. She’ll know.”

Ryan chewed his lip, thinking hard. “Then we have to be smarter. We’ll wait until she’s not looking. When she thinks we’re asleep.”

Kyan sniffled, but nodded slowly. “We sneak out. We save Daddy.”

Before either of them could add more, the doorbell rang.

“Pizza!” Alexia’s voice called from downstairs, cheerful as ever.

The twins scrambled out of the room, acting as normal as they could. They joined her at the table where the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filled the air. Ryan forced himself to grin, reaching for a slice. “Yes! Victory dinner!”

Kyan tried to copy his excitement, though her hands shook when she grabbed her slice. She nibbled at it quietly while Ryan filled the silence with chatter about cartoons and school, trying to keep Alexia distracted.

When the last slice was gone, Ryan yawned loudly, exaggerating the motion. “I’m stuffed. I think we’re just gonna… go to bed early tonight.”

Kyan followed his lead, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. Tired.”

Alexia arched a brow, suspicion flickering across her face. “Bed early? On pizza night? That’s a first.” She chuckled softly but didn’t push it. Instead, she gathered the plates and waved them toward the stairs. “Alright, little gremlins. Go brush your teeth and get into bed.”

The twins obeyed quickly, slipping into their room and under the covers. Ryan whispered as Alexia’s footsteps padded away, “We wait. As soon as she’s asleep, we go.”

But outside the door, Alexia wasn’t heading for bed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the caller ID, her lips tightening. With a swipe she answered.

“Yeah?”

A low, gravelly voice came through the line. “The Order’s making their move at the History Museum tonight. Javier wants us in position—surprise attack. We take them out before they know what hit them."

Alexia’s eyes flicked toward the twins’ closed door. She exhaled quietly, relief crossing her features. Good thing they went down early.

“Understood,” she murmured, her tone colder now, businesslike. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

She ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket, already shifting into the assassin she truly was.